“This is amazing.” The words escaped me without thought. Kanshisha-san didn’t pause to acknowledge my awe. He brushed past me and retook the lead.
I followed, assuming we were heading toward the mansion. But instead, he veered left, passing a burbling fountain of stacked stones, and headed toward a long, rectangular building of dark-stained wood. It looked old, as though it had been transported straight from the fifteenth century. I half expected samurai on horseback to appear at any second, patrolling the grounds.
Kanshisha-san unlocked the door and stepped inside. I hesitated as the grandeur outside gave way to an eerie stillness. The hallway was dimly lit, with no windows—only small lamps jutting from the walls, their yellow glow barely piercing the shadows. The air smelled dry and stale, like a cupboard that hadn’t been opened in decades. We passed a series of narrow doorways, each closed, until we reached the very last room. Its door stood open.
“This is your room,” Kanshisha-san said, his tone flat. “You are to wait here until told otherwise. Keep the door closed.” His cold and dismissive gaze skimmed over me, settling on my phone in my hand. He snatched it from me. “Change out of those clothes.”
I stepped inside, and before I could speak, the door shut firmly behind me, followed by the unmistakable click of a lock. I froze, listening to his footsteps fade down the hall. Slowly, I turned and tested the doorknob. It turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. A dead bolt was in place.
Did he just lock me in?
My stomach twisted, and for the first time, I wondered if I’d made a mistake.
The room was stark, with a tiny window near the ceiling. A single mattress lay on a narrow wooden frame, topped with a thin blanket and pillow. Two white towels were folded neatly on top. A small table with a chair stood against the wall, holding the most basic toiletries: a comb, a toothbrush with a tube of toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo, and a bar of green soap that smelled faintly medicinal. Above it hung a mirror, its surface slightly warped at the edges. I switched on the lamp beside it, bathing the room in weak yellow light.
A narrow standing closet occupied the corner. Inside hung two identical chef uniforms: black tops resembling kimonos, black pants, and red obi belts. The fabric looked stiff, utilitarian.
As I changed into one of the uniforms, unease gnawed at me. This apprenticeship felt off so far. The cold welcome, the sparse room… It all felt wrong. Was this common in other programs? Were the other apprentices here being treated the same way? Or was this special treatment for me, the lone woman in a man’s world?
I sat on the bed, the mattress creaking under my weight, and caught my reflection in the mirror. My own face stared back at me, pale and unsure.
Stop it, Akiko. The last thing you need is to second-guess yourself. Stay positive. This is the start of something new. Something great.
But the silence chipped away at me. Where were the other apprentices? Were they late? Would they be dismissed? Or were they here already, keeping quiet behind their closed doors?
I leaned toward the wall shared with the room next door and pressed my ear to the cold surface. Nothing. No movement. No sound. Just silence.
Minutes dragged by. Then I heard the faint creak of the front door opening, followed by heavy footsteps and Kanshisha-san’s low, gruff voice. My heart leaped. Someone else had arrived.
The footsteps stopped near my room, followed by the squeak of another door opening. A pause. Then, the soft click of it closing again. No lock clicked into place.
Why was my door locked and not theirs?
Miki had been joking when she called this place a prison. But sitting here, staring at the locked door, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
CHAPTER FIVE
I jiggled the doorknob repeatedly, thinking it would magically unlock itself. Why me and not the person next door? Was this because I was a woman? If gender was such an issue, why let me into the program in the first place? I plopped back onto the bed, leaning against the wall with my knees pulled to my chest. Whoever was next door was being awfully quiet.
It had to be a man.
Sure, there was a slim chance another woman had been accepted, but I doubted it. The welcome packet didn’t say how many apprentices were admitted, just that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So far, it seemed like there were just the two of us.
I strained my ears, trying to catch a sound, anything. Whoever it was must have been doing the same because the silence amplified my breathing. I couldn’t help but wonder: Who were they? Would they be friendly? Or would they treat me differently because I was a woman?
Then, faint rustling. My pulse quickened as I pressed my ear against the wall. The soft shuffle of fabric—were they changing into their uniform? Mustering confidence, I decided to break the silence.
“Hello? Are you here for the apprenticeship?” I called out.
A pause. Then, a hesitant “Yeah.”
“Me too.”
Another pause, longer this time. “But…you’re a girl.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and?”
“Why are you in the program?”
